


New Beginnings

by SPowell



Series: New Beginnings series [1]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Christmas Story, First Time, M/M, post SR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas in Minnesota brings a surprising turn of events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Slash, hurt/comfort, first encounter, post SR  
> Disclaimer: The characters from "Starsky and Hutch" do not belong to me. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

“’He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!’”

  
Kenneth Hutchinson closed the book and looked over at his father, who was sound asleep in his chair, a colorful Christmas quilt spread over his legs and his old German shepherd, Sergeant, at his feet. With a soft smile, he stood up, stoked the fire, and left the study, in search of his mother.

“He’s sound asleep,” he told her when he entered the kitchen where Barbara Hutchinson stood putting the last few cookies into a colorful tin. She turned and kissed her son on the cheek.

  
“That was so sweet of you to read it to him. He loves that story.”

  
“It was my pleasure,” Hutch smiled, leaning against the counter. The sound of footsteps on the back stairs preceded the entrance of Hutch’s younger sister, Carolyn.

  
“Finished?” she asked her mother, who nodded, snapped on the lid of the tin, and handed it to her daughter, who thanked her and slipped on her coat. “I left the presents I brought over up in your room. Thanks for offering to wrap them. I have to work every day this week.”

  
“Where do you think you’re going with the cookies, Caro?” Hutch asked, blocking her way out of the kitchen.

  
“These are for my friends at the hospital, if you must know,” she said with mock haughtiness. “Get Mother to bake you your own, if you can. You know I’m her favorite!” She tossed her head, dislodging the bun she’d so diligently worked on. Her fingers flew to her head. “Shit!”

  
“Carolyn!” Mrs. Hutchinson admonished. “You know I don’t like that language. And that’s ridiculous…I don’t have any favorites,” Hutch just rolled his eyes and made a grab for his sister, tickling her mercilessly until she relented and let him have a cookie.

  
“Not a bit has changed,” their mother admonished. “You’d think you two were teenagers again.”

  
“We’ll see all of you in the morning!” Carolyn laughed as she walked outside, her green scrubs and red coat in sharp contrast with the acres of white, gleaming snow. Hutch shook his head, watching her get into her station wagon.

  
“I can’t believe Caro became a nurse. She never had much of a bedside manner,” he said, shutting the door.

  
“Maybe not when you were growing up, but when she had kids she changed. She became more nurturing.”

“Let’s hope so, for her patients’ sakes,” Hutch quipped, taking a seat at the table and accepting a cup of coffee. His mother sat down opposite him. “I remember that time I had the flu and you asked her to take care of me because you had to go to that charity meeting. She pretty much left me to my own devices.”

  
“She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, Kenneth,” his mother reminded him gently.  
Hutch grunted, eating his cookie.

  
“It’s been wonderful having you here for the holidays,” Barbara told him. “It means a lot to your father.”

  
Hutch nodded, taking a sip from the mug. It had a faded picture of Santa Claus on it, and he recognized it as one he’d given his parents when he was in elementary school. Gazing out the big bay window and watching the snow fall outside as the sun set behind the trees in the backyard, he wondered why he didn’t make the trip home every year. He knew the answer to that, of course; he hated being away from his partner. It seemed ironic that the Christmas when he most wanted to be with him, he was in Minnesota with his family.

  
He and Starsky had spent most of the Christmases of their partnership in LA, but this year both had gone home for the holidays: Hutch to Minnesota and Starsky to New York. Hutch couldn’t help but miss his partner’s irrepressible enthusiasm for the holiday, but he had to admit that this time with his family had been healing. Of course, if it weren’t for his father’s illness, that may not have been the case.

  
His mother pointed out two fat cardinals in the birdfeeder to the right of the fence, one bright red and one a dun color. “Seed’s almost all gone.”

  
“I’ll take some out soon,” Hutch promised.

  
“You’re still staying through New Year’s, aren’t you?” Barbara Hutchinson asked, wiping her hands on the green apron she wore. The edges had been painstakingly embroidered with tiny red Christmas ornaments by Grandmother Hutchinson when Hutch was little.

  
“I promised, didn’t I?” Hutch raised an eyebrow. He shook his head. “I still can’t believe Dad wants me here that long. He’s changed so much.”

  
“Looking death in the face will do that to you, I guess,” Barbara said, and her son flinched. She patted his hand. “Ever since he got the diagnosis, your father has talked more about you children than he has since you were born. Business has finally taken a back seat in his life. Forget old grudges, Kenneth. Make the most of now.”

  
Hutch’s throat closed up with emotion, keeping him from replying. He sipped his coffee and stared outside into the snowy twilight. Make the most of now. Funny, but hadn’t that been the way his thoughts had been running lately?

  
The phone on the wall behind him jangled, and his mother rose to answer it.

  
“Why, hello, David! So wonderful to hear from you. Yes, we are, what about you?... Give Joanne my best. Yes, he’s right here.” She handed the phone to her son.

  
Hutch eagerly greeted Starsky, asking about his mother and brother and how things were going in New York. They spoke animatedly for several minutes before hanging up, and without Hutch realizing it, his entire countenance fell.

  
“Kenneth,” Barbara said suddenly, watching him, “why don’t you invite David and Joanne to fly out here for the holidays? He said his brother has gone out of town to be with a girlfriend.”

  
Hutch looked at her, surprised. “Uh, well…I don’t know, Mom. I mean, that would probably be pretty expensive, and…well, would Dad like that? He’s not big on guests.”

  
“Like I told you, your father has changed. And we could pay for their tickets, if they’d let us. I really enjoy Joanne’s company. Had I known that it was just the two of them this year, I would’ve invited them earlier.”

  
Hutch’s mind was whirling. Starsky and his mother here for Christmas? The thought excited him, but he was having trouble imagining it. Here he’d been feeling low because of the two weeks away from Starsky after all these months spent together during his rehabilitation, not to mention the fact that those two weeks included the holidays, and now his mother was offering this wonderful idea. Would Starsky go for it?

  
“Call him and ask him,” his mother urged, and Hutch did just that.

  
Later that evening, Hutch whistled a Christmas tune as he helped his mother arrange the presents she’d wrapped under the eight-foot Balsam Fir that stood in the living room. It was decorated all in gold and white, with tiny clear lights on every branch. He still couldn’t believe Starsky and his mother had agreed to make the trip and spend Christmas with them.

  
“So they’ll be here tomorrow afternoon…why wouldn’t they agree to let us pick them up from the airport?” Hutch’s mother asked.

“I guess since you’re paying for their flight, they thought the least they could do was take a cab and save you the trip.” Hutch shook his head. “I still can’t believe Starsky agreed to it. He’s so proud. What in the heck did you say to his mother?”

  
Barbara had spent a good thirty minutes on the line with Joanne Starsky while Hutch went to take his father his dinner.

  
“Oh, well, I just told her that you boys should be together on Christmas, particularly this one—after David’s terrible ordeal.”

  
Hutch sat back on his heels and stared at her. “Well, that’s really nice, Mom, but I…well, I just—“ He was stumped for words. How could she possibly know how important it was to Hutch to be with his partner this Christmas?

  
Barbara decided to come to his rescue. “Kenneth, I’m not as old or closed-minded as you seem to think.”

  
Hutch frowned. “What do you mean? I never said you were old and closed-minded…”  
She fluffed a sagging lace bow on a present before arranging it artfully under a branch.

  
“You and David. I know all about your relationship, and I’m fine with it.”

  
Hutch stared at her, dumbfounded. What in the hell was she talking about?

  
“Our relationship? We’re partners, best friends…closer than brothers. Is that what you mean?”

  
Barbara turned artless blue eyes on her son. “Of course not, Kenneth! I’m talking about the fact that you and David are lovers!”

  
Hutch reeled, falling backward, his butt hitting the carpet.

  
“Close your mouth before a fly gets in,” Barbara said with a fond smile. She turned to the pile of gifts and stuffed another one under the tree. “You know, we need to run out in the morning and get some presents for Joanne and David. We’ll have time. When Carolyn gets here, she can start the cooking.”

  
“Mom ---“ Hutch’s eyes had widened to twice their size. “W-what makes you th-think that Starsky and I are l-lovers?”

  
“What are you so nervous about?” Barbara asked him from her position under the tree. When her head popped out, there were pine needles in her fair hair. “You only stutter when you’re upset.” She laid a hand on his knee. “I told you, honey. I’m fine with it. And so is your father, and so is Carolyn.”

  
Hutch’s mouth fell open. “Mom! Starsky and I aren’t sleeping together!” Where had she gotten this idea?

  
“I knew you’d deny it, Kenneth. Look, I know it probably isn’t easy, especially with you two on the police force, but you don’t have to stay in the closet with your own family. Joanne and I agree on this.”

  
Hutch blinked. This conversation can’t possibly get any weirder.  
“We’ve known for years, dear. The way you two are together…the fact that you haven’t been serious about a woman—either one of you—in ages. It’s so obvious.” She took another present and placed it under the tree. “Of course, your father didn’t like it at first. Remember that trip we made to see you after you were so sick with botulism? David was so obviously in love with you. Always at your side, so attentive. When we left, your father was livid. But now that he’s got cancer…” she shrugged. “He just doesn’t feel it matters anymore. He told me that himself.”

  
Hutch thought back. He definitely remembered a coldness in his father’s demeanor in their brief conversations after that visit. But-- Starsky obviously being in love with him? Ridiculous!  
“And Starsky’s mom?” he asked, unable to resist.

  
“Oh, Joanne says she’s suspected from the very first. In fact, she thought that his relationship with that poor girl who was shot in the head was a total ruse.”

  
Terry? Starsky’s mother thought Terry was a ruse?

  
At her son’s expression, Barbara amended, “Maybe ruse isn’t the right word—she felt that her son was in denial about his feelings for you. But we’ve been pretty certain you were together since—oh, I guess since you had the plague. She told me David was practically crying when he spoke to her on the phone during that time.”

  
“Mom, you know we’re close. Just because we love each other doesn’t mean we’re having sex.”  
Barbara stood up and wiped the lint and needles from her camel-colored slacks. “Kenneth, I’m not a fool—if you two love each other so much, why in the world wouldn’t you make love?” With that, she left the room, leaving Hutch staring after her.  
***  
Hutch didn’t sleep much that night. He kept wondering if Starsky knew their families thought they were gay, and if so, what he’d said to his mother about it. Hutch certainly hadn’t gotten anywhere with his. And her words kept returning to his mind and playing over and over again. Hutch did love Starsky. Very much. He’d always known it, but almost losing him had really driven it home. And sure, he’d wondered a time or two what it would be like to kiss Starsky…touch his naked skin. Taking care of him when he got out of the hospital had pushed their partnership to an even higher state of intimacy. He’d bathed him, helped him to the bathroom, slept with him and held him in his arms when the pain was unbearable. He’d kissed him on the temple. Murmured in his ear. Awakened with a hard-on pushed against his back. Of course, he awoke with hard-ons all the time…it didn’t mean anything.

  
Giving up on trying to sleep, Hutch got out of bed and padded downstairs to the kitchen. He found the cocoa and proceeded to heat up some milk.

  
“Can’t sleep?” His father’s voice came from the doorway.  
Hutch started. “Dad! I-I didn’t expect you to be up.”

  
“I don’t sleep so well these days,” Jonathan Hutchinson answered, taking a seat at the table. “Got enough milk to make me a cup?”

  
“Sure.” Hutch added some to the pot. “Are you in pain?”

  
“A little,” Jonathan admitted. Hutch rather thought it had to be a lot, since his father rarely admitted to being in pain. He’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer three months ago, and it was beginning to take a toll on his daily life. It was probable that this would be his last Christmas, and Hutch felt an unbearable sadness that the knowledge wasn’t more devastating to him. He and his father had never been close; Jonathan worked so much when his son was young, that he simply never bonded with him. Later, he’d disapproved of Hutch’s choice of career. The move to California had put physical distance between them, and after Jonathan’s retirement, there had simply never been any time or opportunity to change things. Hutch thought he’d probably mourned the passing of their long-time butler, Carlton, more than he would his own father when the time came.

  
When the milk was hot enough, Hutch poured it over the powdered cocoa in the two Christmas mugs and set one in front of his father before taking his to his seat across the table. Both men sat stirring their drinks in silence.

  
“So I hear Starsky’s coming tomorrow, along with his mother.”

  
Hutch took a careful sip of his hot drink. “Mom insisted. I hope it’s okay with you.”

  
Jonathan nodded. “Perfectly fine.” He sighed. “You’d be surprised what doesn’t matter much when you know your time on earth is limited.”

  
Hutch didn’t know what to say to this. It seemed useless to argue that he and Starsky were not lovers. His father would only think he was lying. Did it really matter anyway? Maybe that would go a ways in his father’s mind in explaining why Hutch’s marriage had failed and why he hadn’t been able to maintain a relationship with a woman ever since. He also knew his father would never understand the intimacy he and Starsky shared. Thinking they were lovers probably made it all make sense in his mind. Ironically, Hutch found he preferred his father to think he had a successful homosexual relationship rather than a series of unsuccessful heterosexual ones.

  
“Son, I want you to know that all of my papers are in the strong box at the top of my closet. Your mother will need your help when I’m gone…she’s never been one for dealing with financial matters. My attorney’s name and number are also in the strong box. I keep the key in the desk drawer in my study.”

  
Hutch nodded, still without words. He didn’t know what to say to his father; he never had. It was difficult to build a relationship now, so close to the end.

  
After a few sips of cocoa, Jonathan announced he was going to bed. On his way out of the room, he briefly placed a hand upon Hutch’s head. It was a simple caress, but it was so unprecedented, it brought tears to Hutch’s eyes.

  
Hutch took his cocoa into the living room and plugged up the tree lights. Watching them twinkle in the dark room, he thought about change.  
***  
Early the following morning, Christmas Eve, Carolyn arrived in a flurry of activity. Chattering about how her husband, Stan, was in charge of the kids at home, she began putting together several dishes in Barbara Hutchinson’s well-stocked kitchen.

  
Fresh out of the shower, Hutch was commandeered into bringing various items from his sister’s car into the mud room, where he placed them on a long table.

  
“Oh, bring that one in here, Ken. Put it on the island,” she instructed him, then sent him out for something else. When he returned, she told him to peel the sweet potatoes.  
“Still as bossy as ever,” he commented dryly.

  
“Are you ready, Kenneth?” Barbara asked moments later, entering the kitchen in a waft of Chanel No. 5 and wearing a smart lavender pantsuit.

  
“Where are you two going?” Carolyn asked, frowning as Hutch eagerly abandoned the sweet potatoes.

  
“You’re losing your slave,” he whispered in her ear before going for the coats.

  
“We have to do some shopping,” Barbara answered, pouring a cup of coffee and taking a sip. Hutch returned from the mud room and held up her mink for her. She set her cup down and slipped her arms into the sleeves. “Anything you need us to pick up?”

  
“I don’t think so,” Carolyn muttered, looking about the kitchen.

  
“Well, I’ll be back shortly to help you, dear. Let’s go, Kenneth.”

  
Behind his mother’s back, Hutch stuck his tongue out at his sister and she flipped him a bird, like the kids they’d once been, and he followed Barbara out to the garage. She directed him to a local shopping mall, where she proceeded to choose a sweater, robe, and scarf for Starsky, with Hutch’s help, and then a nice winter gown and robe for Joanne. Hutch found a gift set of special teas for his partner’s mother, knowing how much she enjoyed a cup of hot tea every morning before breakfast. He’d already found something for Starsky earlier in the week when he’d gone shopping on his own. It was sort of sentimental, but after the year they’d had, he figured he was entitled.

  
Back at home, Hutch wrapped these gifts as best he could and set them under the tree while his mother joined Carolyn in the kitchen. Once finished, he took Sergeant for a walk. Another storm would be moving in before nightfall, and he was glad Starsky and his mom would be flying in before then. The crisp sound of his footsteps in the icy snow and the smoky puffs of air emitted from his mouth brought back memories of many winters at home.

  
Once back inside, Barbara gave him a tray of food to take to his father in the study, where Sergeant had already joined his master by the fire. Hutch sat down and ate his own bowl of soup while, between small bites, his father told him what he’d been reading in the paper.

  
Hutch must’ve dozed off, for the next thing he knew, the doorbell rang and there was a commotion in the hall. Starsky’s familiar voice drifted through the doorway, and Hutch jumped up, almost overturning the empty bowl in his lap, and flung open the door to the study.

  
“Merry Christmas!” Starsky said, laughing, and enveloping his partner in a huge hug before holding him at arms’ length. “Hey! You shaved the cookie duster!”

  
“That’s because my sister kept referring to it as the ‘porn ‘stache,’’’ Hutch replied, shooting Carolyn a look.

  
“All you needed was a velvet jumpsuit and some raunchy music,” Carolyn retorted, giving Starsky a warm hug as he laughed uproariously at her comment.

  
Barbara was taking coats and exclaiming over Joanne’s outfit. Hutch took his turn hugging his friend’s mother.

  
A short, plump brunette, Joanne Starsky looked festive in a holiday sweater and slacks. Although Starsky’s family was Jewish, they had always celebrated both holidays, since Joanne had been raised in a Christian household.

  
“Hutch, you look wonderful,” she told him. “I was afraid nursing Dave might have taken its toll on your health.”

  
“No, I’m fine,” Hutch told her. “I didn’t do all that much for him anyway.”

  
“Now don’t you fib to me, young man! My son has told me exactly what you did for him.”

Joanne was a no-nonsense, motherly type of person, and she’d always treated Hutch like one of her own.

  
Hutch blushed crimson, and Starsky put a hand on his shoulder, patting it softly. “Just giving credit where credit is due,” he said affectionately, his blue eyes soft, as though he were remembering every single thing his partner had done for him during his illness.

  
They all walked into the living room together. Carolyn had slipped away to close the study door, as her father was still napping. “Can I get anyone a drink?” she asked from the hall doorway.

  
“I’ve made coffee,” Barbara told them. “It will help warm you up. Or would you rather have tea? Kenneth told me you like it.”

  
“Coffee sounds lovely,” Joanne replied. “Let me help you.” She disappeared into the kitchen with the women. Hutch went to the stereo and put on some Christmas music.

  
“This is certainly some place,” Starsky commented, looking around. “You got more property than I imagined. You sure never let on your folks were so well-off, Hutch.”

  
Hutch shrugged, a little embarrassed. He had always played down his family’s wealth, since it was something he wasn’t comfortable with. It was difficult enough trying to make it as a cop while being blond and good looking, not to mention a college grad. He didn’t need to throw ‘rich’ into the mix.

  
“How’s your dad doin’?” Starsky asked.

  
“Not too great. He sleeps a lot and is in pain. He isn’t able to be very active anymore.”  
“I’m sorry,” his partner said sincerely.

  
Hutch sighed. “What’s so weird is, it’s just now that he knows he’s dying that he wants to have a relationship with me. I-I just don’t know how to handle it.”

  
Starsky moved close and put his hand on the back of Hutch’s neck, a familiar gesture of comfort. As was so often the case, no words needed to be spoken between them.

  
“Starsky,” Hutch began after a moment, wanting to take advantage of this time alone to see what Joanne had said to her son about them. “Have you and your mother…”

  
He was interrupted by the women entering the room, their conversation all about what they would be eating for the next two days. Hutch immediately moved away, leaving Starsky looking a little confused.

  
“And I thought the Cornish hens would be fine for tonight, and tomorrow night we could eat the steaks…unless you would rather have traditional turkey or ham?” Barbara chattered away.

  
“Steaks sound wonderful,” Joanne said, setting down the coffee tray. “I have a wonderful recipe for plum pudding…we could have that one night for dessert. Dave, you want a cup of coffee, dear?”

  
Starsky went to join his mother on the couch, and Hutch took a seat near the tree. Joanne asked Carolyn about her job and her family.

  
Carolyn chatted happily about her nursing career, his husband, and her twin boys. “Stan and the kids will be here soon,” she added.

  
As if on cue, boisterous noises from the mud room announced the arrival of her husband and two sons.

  
The rest of the evening consisted of everyone exclaiming over the antics of Bobby and Simon, Carolyn and Stan’s twin six-year-olds. Jonathan Hutchinson made an appearance, the tall, imposing man looking a bit gray around the edges. Seeing him through the eyes of their company, Hutch took in the slumped shoulders and shuffling step with a sinking heart. After sharing in some polite conversation, the elder Hutchinson man soon made his excuses and returned to his quiet study. Starsky gave Hutch a meaningful look from across the room, conveying both understanding and sympathy. Funny how his partner could say a thousand things to him with just a glance.

  
Dinner was served at seven, and everyone ate as though starved, passing plates right and left amid a flurry of conversation. Barbara’s mashed potatoes were a huge hit, and Starsky insisted that Hutch learn to make them the exact same way. Hutch couldn’t help but note how that must’ve sounded; they already appeared to be a married couple.

  
“Pumpkin pie for dessert!” Carolyn announced as Barbara, Hutch, and Stan rose to clear the table, insisting that their guests stay put.

  
There was a general groan, and it was decided that the pie would be saved for later, after stomachs had a chance to settle.

  
Barbara took Joanne to the music room, and a moment later strains of “Silent Night” played on the piano floated down the hall. Hutch motioned for Starsky to follow him to the mud room, and they donned heavy jackets and scarves and went out into the backyard. A full moon had risen over the wide expanse of acreage that made up the Hutchinson farm, and its reflection on the snow lit their path as they trudged about the yard. Hutch had brought the bag of birdseed, and he stopped at several feeders to fill each of them up.

  
“Starsk,” he began, eager to bring up the subject that had been weighing on his mind, “Did—“

  
Just then, a barking bundle of wet fur bounded through the snow and knocked Hutch onto his rear end. This was followed by shouts and laughter from Simon and Bobby, who were trailed a bit sheepishly by their father.

  
“Sorry, fellas, the boys needed to run off a bit of energy, and evidently, so did Sergeant,” Stan apologized. Hutch wondered if he’d thought he’d interrupted them in a lover’s clinch.  
“No problem,” Starsky said heartily, leaning down to pull the excited dog off his partner. Bobby and Simon proceeded to help their uncle out of the snow.

  
The moment of privacy gone and Hutch’s pants soaked, he and Starsky headed back to the house. Barbara was just taking Joanne upstairs where her bags had been placed in one of the guest rooms, and the men followed. “I’m sure you’re wiped out from your trip,” Barbara told the other woman.

  
“Yes, it would be nice to get to bed early,” Joanne admitted, trying unsuccessfully to cover a yawn.

  
“You go right ahead. Bathroom’s on the left, with towels in the closet. Just let me know if you need anything,” Barbara said. She led Starsky down the hall to another bedroom. Like his mother’s, this room had a queen-sized bed. It was fashionably decorated in browns and blues, while the other had been yellow and white.

  
Hutch came up behind his mother at that moment, and Barbara said, “Kenneth, you may as well move your things in here with David,” before moving off down the hall.

  
Starsky looked inquiringly at Hutch. “What was that about? Something wrong with your room?”

  
Shoving his partner through the door, Hutch closed it behind them. “So you haven’t heard?” he asked.

  
“Heard what?” Starsky inquired, throwing the top of his suitcase open on the bed and shuffling through it.

  
“Evidently, it’s common knowledge that we’re lovers.”

  
“What?!” Starsky swung around, mouth open. “We’re not…huh?”

  
Hutch nodded. “My mother told me in no uncertain terms last night that she knows you and I are sleeping together, and there is absolutely no reason why we should continue to hide it, since everyone in the family knows it, and has known it for a long time. And that includes your mother.” He was pacing and pointing his finger, sure signs that he was agitated.

  
“My mother—oh, no way.” Starsky shook his head so vehemently, his curls bounced. “Why the hell…? You told her it wasn’t true, didn’t you?”

  
“Of course I told her that!” Hutch cried. “She doesn’t believe me! And get this—“ He pointed again. “This isn’t something new--They’ve thought this for a long time! Man,” he rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. “No wonder my dad got so cold with me. I mean, not that he was ever very warm, but I definitely sensed a deeper chill between us the last couple of years. I kept wondering what the hell I’d done.”

  
Starsky refrained from blurting out the obvious question—why hadn’t Hutch simply asked his father? He knew that wasn’t the way his partner’s family did things. “You mean to tell me, our families have thought we were gay for several years?” He asked instead. He could understand how something like that could remain under wraps in Hutch’s family, but his mother? Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time his mother had inquired about him having a special lady in his life.

  
Hutch nodded. “Mmm, hmm.”

  
Starsky sputtered a few minutes, and then, to Hutch’s surprise, started to laugh.

  
“What’s so funny?” Hutch asked, frowning.

  
“Well…” Starsky chuckled. “Just imagine. If we really were sleepin’ together, would we ever be this lucky that both our families approve? Hell, your mother practically forced us into bed together here!” He swept his hand over the room.

  
Hutch’s mouth twitched. It was pretty funny.

“If we were lovers for real, they’d probably disown us.” Starsky shook his head. “So what’re we gonna do?”

  
“What can we do, Starsk? Even my dad’s fine with it.” He shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed. “I mean, what’s the point in denying it, when they’ll all just think we’re lying? Nobody seems to understand how we can feel like we do about each other, and not be sleeping together. My mom even said it would be stupid not to be. Like—why would we love each other so much and be denying ourselves the sex?”

  
Starsky sat down beside him. “That does sound kind of stupid when you say it like that.” He shook his head.

  
Hutch looked over at him.  
“But the fact remains…we ain’t gay.” Starsky replied, lying down on the bed, his feet still on the floor. He kicked off his shoes.

  
“You don’t have to convince me.”

  
“And I don’t see what the big deal is about us being close,” Starsky continued, staring at the ceiling. “We’ve always been this way, and this past year has made us even closer.” He looked to Hutch for affirmation. Seeing his nod, he continued, “And it ain’t like getting turned on sometimes by a guy makes you gay.”

  
“You’ve gotten turned on?” Hutch asked, lowering himself to lie on his side beside Starsky.

  
“A coupla times. Usually when your morning boner was diggin’ into my back.” Starsky grinned at Hutch’s deep blush.

  
A scratching on the door alerted them to Sergeant’s presence. Rising, he let the big dog in. Although pretty old, Sergeant still had a lot of energy, and he immediately jumped onto the bed and began to lick Starsky’s face.

  
“Sergeant, down!” Hutch laughed. Taking the dog by the collar, he led him off the bed and out of the room. “Dad must be in the shower,” he commented when he came back in. “He usually sticks with him, especially now.”

  
“Probably has some kinda sixth sense that he’s sick,” Starsky said, rising to grab his pajamas and head for the bathroom himself.

  
“Yeah, he’s a pretty smart old fella. G’night, partner,” Hutch told Starsky as he headed for his own room.

  
“G’night, Hutch,” Starsky replied with a gentle smile.

  
When Starsky returned from his nightly ablutions, he was surprised to find Hutch in his pajamas sitting on the far side of his bed.

  
“What’s up? You decide you wanna be lovers after all?” he asked with a wink.

  
Hutch chuckled. “You wish! No. I went to my room and Mom’s got Bobby and Simon in there.”

He shook his head. “They’re already fast asleep. You don’t mind sharing your bed, do you?”

  
Starsky turned out the light and climbed in beside him. “Not so long as you behave,” he replied easily, snuggling down under the covers. “Hutch, as many times as we’ve shared a bed this past year, do you really have to ask?”

  
Hutch grunted, took off his slippers, and wiggled beneath the sheet and heavy down comforter onto his side, jumping when Starsky’s cold foot touched his.

  
“Starsky!” he exclaimed, wiggling away until he was pressed up against the wall.

  
“My feet are cold!”

  
“No kidding!”

  
“Well, warm ‘em up, wouldja?”

  
“Get some socks!”

  
“I don’t like sleepin’ in socks. Hutch,” he said plaintively, “it’s cold as a witch’s tit in Minnesota!”

  
Hutch laughed and reluctantly brought his warmer feet closer to Starsky’s, which his partner enthusiastically took advantage of by wiggling his own twin pieces of ice between them.

  
“God!” Hutch shivered, burrowing deeper under the covers and rubbing his feet against his partner’s to warm them up.

  
“Hutch?”

  
“Yeah, buddy?”

  
Starsky sighed. “Nothing. Just glad to be here.”

  
“Same here.” He gave Starsky’s feet an extra rub with his own.

  
Soon, both men were fast asleep.

  
***  
While Starsky had never made the trip to Minnesota before, Carolyn had made several trips to Bay City, so Bobby and Simon were no strangers to their ‘Uncle Dave’. They had no qualms about barging into the bedroom early the next morning and jumping on both their uncles.

  
“Uncle Ken! Uncle Dave! Wake up! It’s Christmas!” they chorused.

  
Hutch rose into consciousness to find himself spooned around his partner under the covers. Jerking away, he sat up, blinking in the dawn light.

  
“Time to see what Santa brought!” Carolyn said cheerfully from the doorway, eyebrows raised. Hutch ducked under the covers. Laughing, Carolyn ushered her children from the room. “Come on, guys. Let’s let your uncles get dressed.” As she closed the door, she stuck her head back in and added, “And no time for any shenanigans! We’re holding the boys in the hall away from their presents until you get down there.” She shut the door.

  
Hutch could feel himself turning red, and Starsky sat up, bleary-eyed. “Crap, what was that?”

  
“Hurricane Simon and Tornado Bobby,” Hutch answered, climbing out of the bed. “Not to mention my dirty-minded sister who wanted to make sure we don’t take time out for a quickie.” He shivered. “I don’t know why, as much money as he has, Dad has to keep this house like a freezer.” He grabbed his robe, which he’d brought in the night before. He found Starsky’s in his suitcase and tossed it to him.

  
“Thanks,” Starsky muttered. “Still can’t believe everyone thinks we’re a coupla fairies. Our own families, too!” It obviously burned his ego that Hutch’s sister thought they were going to fool around.

  
Hutch went to the mirror hanging over the dresser and tried to tame his hair. “I don’t know, Starsk. I don’t think of it as being fairies…just two guys in love.”

  
“What’s the difference?” Starsky asked. “Look, I’m sure when I tell Ma it’s all a misunderstanding, everything’ll be cleared up. Man, I hope somebody’s put some strong coffee on.” He followed Hutch to the bathroom where they brushed their teeth and used the facilities before heading downstairs where the twins were practically bouncing off the walls with excitement.

  
“Now, mama, now?” they begged, and Carolyn nodded, following them into the living room where Stan had turned on the tree lights. Both boys whooped and hollered when they saw the bicycles parked near the tree. Stan began taking pictures, while Barbara, Jonathan, and Joanne filed into the room. Barbara had a coffee tray, much to Starsky’s relief. Joanne took a seat next to her son on the couch.

  
“Oh, Christmas is for children! Look how happy they are.” She turned to Starsky. “Sleep well, pumpkin?” she asked him, rubbing his back.

  
“Pumpkin?” Hutch mouthed with amusement, and Starsky shot him a quelling look.

  
“Like a log,” he answered his mother around his first gulp of coffee.

  
“How about you, Hutch?” Joanne asked, as Hutch took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs.

  
“Very well, thanks. I hope you did, too.”

  
Joanne nodded. “Oh, that bed is very comfortable. I slept like a baby.”

  
Carolyn turned the stereo on and “White Christmas” blasted through the room. “Oops,” she said, turning it down several notches. “Sorry, the boys must’ve been playing with the buttons.”

  
Jonathan lowered himself slowly into another one of the big chairs and accepted a cup of coffee from his wife. He seemed to be taking all the commotion in stride, which shocked Hutch. When he and his sister were little, they were never allowed to make noise when their father was home. Of course, he rarely was home.

  
Sergeant sauntered in, and Hutch started to rise.

  
“I already took him out,” Stan said from behind the camera, and Hutch settled back in, relieved he wouldn’t have to go out in the early morning cold.

  
After opening every present with their names on it, the twins began giving out gifts to everyone else. Their grandfather went first, since he looked like he wanted to go back to bed. He diligently opened every gift, making happy comments about each one of them. He paused, visibly touched, over the book Hutch had given him.

  
“You remembered,” he said, looking at his son over the pile of wrapping paper than now covered the floor.

  
“Sure did,” Hutch replied. His father had commented several months ago that the book would be coming out and that he’d like to read it. It really wasn’t a big deal, but Hutch could see that his father was visibly touched.

  
Simon handed his grandfather another present, offering to help rip it open. Soon, Barbara helped gather his gifts up, and Stan took Jonathan back up to his room.

  
Barbara, Joanne, and then Carolyn opened their gifts, followed by Stan. The boys had left their uncles for last.

  
“Uncle Dave, open this one!” Bobby insisted. Starsky tore into the red and gold wrapping paper much as the boys had their own presents. The robe was soft and blue, and had his initials on the lapel, something Hutch had been able to pay extra to have done in the store.

  
“It’s just terrific,” Starsky said, petting the fabric, and immediately took off his old robe and slipped the new one on. “Thank you,” he told Barbara sincerely. The next gift was a pair of matching slippers.

  
“Good! Now you won’t freeze me with your cold feet!” Hutch commented, then turned bright red when he realized how it sounded. No one paid any attention though, except for his partner, who grinned and winked at him. Starsky obviously thought it was all a big joke that would be cleared up easily. Hutch hoped he was right.

  
Carolyn gave Starsky an album, which she had gotten after checking with Hutch about his preferences. The red and blue sweater was next, and as Starsky held it up to his chest, Hutch was suddenly hit by how handsome his partner looked. Red had always been his best color, and the blue brought out his eyes. With his broad smile and curly dark hair, he looked irresistibly boyish. Hutch’s heart flipped over, and he buried his face in his coffee cup, telling himself that he was simply glad that his partner was happy and healthy.

  
Finally came Hutch’s present to Starsky. His partner opened it with greater care than he had the rest of the gifts. When he lifted the lid off the tiny box, he gasped and looked at Hutch, who smiled and ducked his head modestly. Starsky took the small, men’s pinkie ring out of its wrapping. It was white gold and had two tiny stones in it, surrounded by intricate detailing. One was peridot, Hutch’s birthstone, and the other was aquamarine, Starsky’s birthstone.

  
“Hutch, it’s beautiful!” Starsky exclaimed, slipping it on the pinkie finger of his right hand. It was a perfect fit. Starsky smiled and leaned forward to hug his partner. “Me and thee,” Hutch whispered in his ear. “Just wanted something special this Christmas,” he added, knowing Starsky would understand. Then, as had been happening ever since he’d learned of their families’ misconception about them, he thought about the way the gift and the words must appear to others.

  
“Oh, come on, you can do better than that!” Starsky’s mother admonished from her place on the sofa. She and Barbara had obviously had a little chat about encouraging their sons to ‘come out of the closet’ with their families.

  
“Mom,” Starsky said with a resigned sigh, “listen. Me and Hutch are not ‘together’ that way. I don’t know where you folks got that idea, but it’s gotta stop. Hutch hasn’t blushed so much since Carolyn sent me that picture of him on the bear skin rug and I showed it at the precinct Christmas party.”

  
Carolyn gave her brother an evil grin from her seat by her husband. Having lost interest in the festivities, Simon and Bobby boisterously left the room to set up their new train set in the play room upstairs.

  
“David Michael Starsky, don’t you dare lie to your mother!” Joanne admonished severely.

  
“I ain’t lyin’, Ma!” Starsky insisted. Hutch watched with some amusement as his partner regressed into a whining ten-year-old in front of his eyes.

  
“You are so lying! For heaven’s sake, you shared a room last night! You’d better stop it right now and give Hutch a proper thank you kiss before I take you into the bathroom and wash your lying mouth out with soap!” Joanne Starsky’s look was absolutely formidable.

  
Starsky started to say something, thought better of it, and turned to Hutch, who merely lifted a brow.

  
“Ma…” Starsky tried again.

  
“Da-vid!” Joanne’s voice lifted at the end and held a warning.  
With a resigned sigh, Starsky leaned in and kissed his partner softly on the lips. Hutch was thankful he wore slippers so no one could see his toes curl at the singularly exquisite sensation of Starsky’s warm breath on his face and even warmer lips on his mouth. He suddenly longed to feel his partner’s hot tongue against his own. Leaning back in his chair, he mentally flogged himself for his strong reaction to a simple kiss.

  
Carolyn was smirking again as she began to pick up wrapping paper. The boys having shirked their job as Santa, Barbara went and got her son’s gifts out from under the tree.

  
A watch from his parents, several albums from his sister and brother-in-law, a game from his nephews that was obviously meant to be played with them, a tie from Joanne, and a beautiful, light-blue, cashmere scarf from Starsky. Without being told, Hutch obediently leaned in and kissed his partner, daringly running his tongue across his bottom lip before pulling back, leaving Starsky dumbstruck. Hutch grinned, then stood and helped Carolyn with the clean-up.

  
“Joanne got up early and fixed home-made cinnamon rolls!” Hutch’s mother announced, and everyone enthusiastically charged into the kitchen, leaving Starsky and Hutch lingering by the tree.

  
“That was some thank-you kiss,” Starsky commented, his eyes confused.

  
“Didn’t want my mouth washed out with soap,” Hutch smiled.

  
“Hutch—“

  
“Kenneth!” The tone of his mother’s voice sent Hutch running. When he reached the kitchen, he found the three women crowded around his father, who was lying on the floor.

  
“What happened?” Starsky asked, coming up behind Hutch.

  
“He came in to eat and collapsed!” Barbara sounded frantic.

  
Carolyn was kneeling beside her father. “I think he just passed out. Ken, call an ambulance.”

  
Hutch reached for the phone as Joanne handed Carolyn a damp cloth. As she dabbed at her father’s face, he slowly came around.

  
“Just lie still, Dad, help’s on the way,” Carolyn said softly.  
“I don’t want to go….to the hospital.” Jonathan struggled to sit up, but Carolyn pushed him down.

  
“We’ll have the paramedics check you out and see what they say.”

  
Hutch returned from making the call and went for his coat. “I’ll go out and make sure the ambulance finds the driveway.”

  
“No, let me, Hutch,” Starsky stopped him. “You stay with your parents.”  
Hutch’s mother was wringing her hands, and Hutch went to put his arm around her. “Thanks, buddy.”

  
After what seemed like a very long time, the sound of sirens could be heard from a distance. Joanne had gotten a pillow to put under Jonathan’s head, and Hutch had covered him with an afghan. Carolyn sat beside her father, holding his hand.

  
As the paramedics came in through the mud room, Hutch moved back into the hallway to allow them space. Joanne and Starsky did the same. One look at Hutch’s worried frown, and Starksy put his arms around his partner.

  
“He’ll be all right, Hutch,” Joanne said soothingly. “All the festivities were probably just too much for him.”

  
Her words proved to be true, but the paramedics insisted on taking him in to the hospital just to be safe. Carolyn rode with him, leaving Stan to take care of the boys, who were still in the playroom upstairs, unaware of all the commotion.

  
“I’ll call you,” Carolyn told Hutch and her mother as she left with the stretcher.

  
“No, I’m coming right behind you,” Barbara said. “Kenneth, you stay with our guests.”  
“Oh, we don’t need entertaining, Barbara!” Joanne objected.

  
“Kenneth doesn’t like hospitals anyway,” Barbara assured her. “Make yourselves at home. Hopefully we’ll be able to bring Jonathan back in a few hours. Joanne, maybe you can make that delicious plum pudding you were talking about.”

  
Starsky and Hutch were the only ones who had arrived for the gift opening still in their pajamas. They headed upstairs to shower and change while Joanne went into the kitchen.

  
“Don’t worry, Hutch. He’ll be okay,” Starsky told him once they were in their bedroom.

  
Hutch sighed. “I know. I’m just getting a glimpse of what it’s going to be like soon.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Earlier I was thinking what a shame it is that he’s just now learning to enjoy life when he has so little of it left.”

  
Kneeling in front of his partner, Starsky gently touched Hutch’s face. “Tell me what I can do.”

  
Hutch smiled and cupped Starsky’s cheek with his hand. “You’re already doing it, pal. Just you being here helps me. It always has.” More than anything, Hutch felt himself wanting to pull his partner into his arms, but he was afraid that all of the new feelings he’d been having would overwhelm Starsky, who obviously wasn’t in the same place that Hutch was finding himself in their relationship.

  
Starsky stood and said, “Wanna shower first?”

  
“I’ll go to the one down the hall,” Hutch replied.

  
Starsky gathered up his things and headed for the door. “Forgot you guys can afford more than one bathroom. At home we all fight to get in there before Uncle Al takes his morning crap.”  
Hutch made a face, chuckling. “So how come Al and Rosie weren’t with you this year?”

  
“They took a cruise,” Starsky said. “To the Bahamas. At Christmas! Can ya imagine?” Shaking his head, he set off down the hall.

  
Hutch lay down on the bed, his head resting on Starsky’s pillow. He recalled the wonderful feeling of sleeping next to his partner the night before, cuddled up under the down comforter. Of course, Hutch had slept with his partner numerous times over the past year, but that had been when he was recovering from the shooting, and there was something completely different about being cuddled up next to a healthy David Starsky.

  
Reaching down to subdue his rising cock, he admonished himself for the thoughts he’d been having. He knew this had been coming on for a while, but the romantic intimacy that his family was forcing upon them had accelerated his feelings.

  
“Ken!” he heard Stan call to him from the back stairs.

  
“Yeah!” Hutch got off the bed and went into the hall, peering up the spiral staircase.  
“Nobody’s fed the horses. You wanna do it, or you want me to?”

  
“I’ll get them,” Hutch answered, preferring the cold walk to dealing with his rambunctious nephews at the moment.

  
He skipped down the stairs, through the kitchen and into the mud room, where he donned his heavy jacket, gloves, scarf, and boots. Going outside in Minnesota was certainly more of a hassle than in California, he mused not for the first time, as he stepped into the cold air.

  
Snow clouds hung low in the sky, threatening a coming storm. Hutch made his way down to the barn, slipping a couple of times on particularly icy patches of the snow-covered driveway. Once there, he lifted the latch and opened the doors, relishing the smells of hay and horse. Finding the feed bucket, he proceeded to put grain into the feed dishes attached to the wall, first to the two mares, and then to the stallion, before filling their troughs with water. When Hutch was little, they had owned seven horses and his mother used to compete. Petting the gray mare’s nose, he reflected on those times when the nanny had taken him and Carolyn to see her ride. As proud as he’d felt, he still would’ve preferred to have had a mother who was at home with him more often.

  
When Hutch returned to the house, Starsky was in the living room reading a book in front of the tree. Hutch headed upstairs to bathe. By the time he was dressed and downstairs again, it was snowing hard.

  
“Wouldja look at that!” Starsky exclaimed, staring out the window. “It’s coming down like gang busters!”

  
Joanne appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray. “You boys never got to eat breakfast. I’ve prepared some lunch. Stan and the kids are eating with me in the kitchen, but I thought you two might want to enjoy the tree.” She set the tray on the large coffee table.

  
“Thanks, Ma,” Starsky said.

  
“Yeah, thanks Mrs. Starsky,” Hutch replied, taking a seat next to Starsky on the couch.

  
Looking at the two men, Joanne sighed. “I wish you two would just relax. It must be awfully difficult hiding your feelings for one another in public all of the time. You’re with family…drop the act!”

  
Hutch looked over at Starsky, who was taking a long drink of water.

  
“Ma,” he said wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I tried to tell you…”

  
Joanne held up a hand. “I’m not listening to anymore of your nonsense, David,” she said, and left the room.

  
“You’re really pissing your mother off,” Hutch teased with a grin.

  
“What do I gotta do, bring a girl over and screw her here on the living room floor?” Starsky demanded, waving his sandwich in the air.

  
“Better not, or they’ll crucify you for cheating on me,” Hutch returned, taking a bite of potato chip. He glanced at Starsky, who had abandoned his sandwich and sprawled out of the sofa, his knee bent and legs spread, completely unaware of how provocative he looked. Pulling his eyes from what was fast becoming a temptation, Hutch concentrated on chewing.

  
“This is crazy! Our moms have gone whacko.”

  
Hutch nodded, continuing to chew.

  
“There’s gotta be some way to convince them.”

  
“What difference does it really make?” Hutch asked, swallowing. “I mean, if you find a lady and get serious, they’ll believe you then. In the meantime, what’s it hurt?”

  
Starsky stared at him, open mouthed. “I don’t want our families thinking we’re queer!”

  
The words hurt Hutch, and he wasn’t completely sure why. He tried to hide it, but Starsky knew him too well.

  
“What’s the matter?” He moved toward Hutch on the sofa.

  
“Nothing.” Hutch turned away and continued eating, hoping Starsky would drop it.

  
“Hey,” Starsky spoke softly and touched his arm just above the elbow. Hutch shivered, and the hand withdrew. “You gonna tell me what’s up with you? And don’t tell me ‘nothing’ again.”  
Hutch swallowed and reached for the glass of water Joanne had brought him. “Starsky, it just doesn’t bother me like it does you. I don’t know—loving you doesn’t make me feel like a queer.”

  
“Depends on what you mean by lovin’,” Starsky said, shivering for a completely different reason. “I like women.”

  
Hutch rolled his eyes, his temper flaring. “I know you do, Starsk. You don’t have to keep saying it. I’m not the one who is accusing you of sleeping with a man! But it doesn’t make me feel great to think that touching me gives you the creeps!”

  
“Aw, Hutch, you know that ain’t true. I touch you all the time. Just not for sex, that’s all.”

  
“Well, it doesn’t gross me out to think of touching you in a sexual way, so does that make me gay?”

  
“It doesn’t gross you out?” Starsky asked, suddenly very still. He wasn’t so sure it would gross him out, either, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

  
“No.” Hutch shook his head. “and when you kissed me earlier, I liked it. So what do you think of that? Want to call me a fairy now? Your partner’s a big fairy! Have at it.” He waved his hand and leaned back into the cushions. “Call me a faggot, and a fairy, and whatever other homophobic name you can come up with.”

  
“Hutch, stop.” Starsky shook his head. “You ain’t no fairy. And you don’t mean what you’re sayin’. You’re just trying to make a point.”

  
Hutch turned his face away, took a calming breath, and got up. “I’m going to go play that new game with the boys.” He left the room.

  
“Shit, now I’ve made him mad,” Starsky muttered. Gathering up the dishes, he took them into the kitchen. Then he went back to the living room and settled down with the book he’d found in the study. Before he knew it, he’d fallen fast asleep. The doorbell chiming awoke him some two hours later. Good smells came from the kitchen, and Starsky’s mouth began to water. He got up and went into the hall. His mother was standing at the front door speaking to two women holding casserole dishes.

  
“Hello, I’m Monika Bowling, and this is my daughter, Hillary. We heard about Jonathan—my son works at the hospital—so we thought perhaps you could use some dinner.”  
“That’s very nice of you,” Joanne replied, ushering them in. “David, take their coats.” She introduced herself and her son to the Bowlings.

  
Starsky immediately turned on the charm, joking with pretty, auburn-haired Hillary. Joanne and Monika went into the kitchen and Starsky led Hillary into the living room.

  
“I’m here visiting my partner on the police force back home in California.”

  
“Oh my, how exciting!” Hillary trilled. Starsky led her to the couch and sat down next to her, chatting her up while the older women talked in the kitchen.

  
After a fairly long visit, Joanne and Monika came into the room.  
“Come along, Hillary,” Monika said to her daughter. “The snow’s really falling hard now, and we need to get home.” She turned to Joanne. “I bet Barbara and Carolyn will stay at the hospital tonight. Even if they discharged Jonathan now, it would be dangerous driving home in this. We live just over the hill, though, and our four-wheel drive should make it okay.”

Joanne and Starsky followed them to the front door, where Starsky took Hillary’s hand and squeezed it. “Maybe we’ll see each other again before I go,” he said flirtatiously.

  
“I’d like that,” Hillary smiled.

  
After the two left, Joanne turned to her son and smacked him hard on the arm.

  
“Ow! What was that for?” asked Starsky, flinching away.

  
“What do you think you’re doing, flirting with that girl when you’re in a relationship with Ken?” Joanne’s eyes flashed angrily.

  
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Ma!” Starsky rubbed his arm peevishly. “How many times do I have to say it?”

  
Joanne turned her back and walked into the kitchen, leaving a seething Starsky. Hutch appeared on the stairs. “Did I hear voices?” he asked.

  
“Some neighbors came to bring food,” Starsky muttered irritably.

  
“Oh, who was it? The Bowlings?” At Starsky’s nod, he continued, “That was nice of them. I just called the hospital and spoke to Mom. Dad’s doing much better…they’ve been giving him fluids. But the weather’s so bad, they’re going to spend the night there. She says she prefers for Dad to stay anyway, and the weather is a good excuse to keep him there.” He studied his partner’s face, just noticing how agitated he looked. “What’s the matter?”

  
“Hell, my mother just smacked me for flirting with your neighbor! Said I was bein’ unfaithful to you.”

  
Hutch tried to hide his smile, but failed.

  
“I don’t know what the hell’s so funny about this!”

  
“Hey!” Hutch held his hands up. “You’re the one who thought this was so funny yesterday and this morning! Thought you were going to clear it all up with a few words to your mother.”

“Well, it might help if you would tell her the truth instead of going along with it!” Starsky shot back.

  
Hutch frowned. “Okay, since it means so much to you, I will.” He went into the kitchen, leaving Starsky standing in the hall, wondering why things had taken this turn. The trip had begun so well, and now Hutch’s father was in the hospital and the whole family thought he and Hutch were gay. Of course, from the sound of it, they’d been thinking it a while. Starsky still couldn’t believe it. An involuntary shudder at the thought ran through his body. Nobody had ever suggested such a thing before. Sure, there’d been joking about him and Hutch at the precinct, but none of it was in earnest. Not with their history with the ladies. He turned to go into the living room.

  
A good fifteen minutes later, Hutch came out of the kitchen with his coat and hat on.

  
“Well?” Starsky asked, jumping up from the couch and coming out into the hall. “What’d she say? And where’re you going?”

  
“I spoke with your mother, managed to convince her we aren’t gay, and now I’m going out to the barn to feed the horses,” Hutch replied stiffly. It was a little early to feed them again, but he desperately wanted to get away from the house. His conversation with Joanne had drained him.

  
“No kidding? She believed you?” Starsky was ecstatic, and Hutch turned away to pull on his gloves.

  
“Yes, so go call Hillary Bowling and ask her on a date if you want. I’m going out this way, but I’ll come back through the mud room so I won’t track snow in the house. This storm’s only going to get worse, and I need to feed the horses.”

  
“Want some help?” Starsky offered.

  
“No, thanks,” Hutch said. He was obviously mad or upset, but Starsky didn’t know what to say to make it better. He was a little angry himself that Hutch was able to convince his mother so easily, but he’d waited until now to do it.

  
Hutch left in a gust of cold air and swirling snow, and Starsky went into the kitchen to find his mother sitting at the table staring out the bay window. When she turned her face to look at him, her eyes were wet.

  
“Ma,” Starsky said, sitting down beside her. “What’s wrong?”

  
Joanne frowned. “Ken explained to me that this has all been a big misunderstanding.”

  
Starsky patted her hand. “Well, I’m glad you believe him, since you wouldn’t believe me. But why’re you crying? It’s got to be some kind of a relief that your son’s not gay.” He smiled at her affectionately.

  
Joanne met his gaze, her eyes troubled. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Oh, Dave. I—I just get the impression that there’s nothing your partner wouldn’t do for you, that’s all.”

  
“The feeling’s mutual,” Starsky replied immediately.

  
“Is it?” she asked.

  
Starsky squirmed a little in his seat. “Of course. Hutch is my partner.”

  
Just then Stan and the boys came down the back stairs in a flurry of noise, and Joanne stood up. “Would you like me to heat these casseroles now?” she asked Stan. “I’m sure you’re starving. All you had for lunch was a sandwich!”

  
“I think maybe we should go on home,” Stan replied, getting their coats from the mud room. “I just spoke with Carolyn. They’re staying at the hospital tonight. We don’t have any of the boys’ clothes here, and this is turning into a real blizzard. I’d rather get us home before it gets so bad we can’t leave for days.”

  
“Do you think it’s safe to go now?” Starsky asked.

  
“Yeah,” Stan knelt and zipped up Simon’s green coat, then turned to help Bobby with his blue one. “We parked in the garage, and my car’s great in the snow. We live just a couple miles down the road, too. So I don’t expect a problem. It’s when the temperature drops and it gets really icy that things are going to get difficult. Come on, boys.” Joanne had been assisting with hats and gloves, and now she turned to the counter.

  
“Well, take this with you,” she said, handing him one of the covered casseroles. “Heat it at 350° when you get home.”

  
“Thanks,” Stan said, taking the dish and smiling. “Tell Ken we said bye.” He and the boys went through the mud room and out a side door that led to the four car garage.  
After seeing them off, Starsky came back into the kitchen.

  
“Ma, about what we were talking about before…I wanna understand what you meant and why you’re upset.”

  
“Dave, it’s just that I really thought you and Ken had what we all want…total acceptance, total love. You just seem so happy together. I’d quit worrying about you settling down.”

  
“Yeah, I guess we have all that, but that doesn’t mean we want to have sex with each other, Ma!”

  
“Okay, I get that. Let’s just forget about it.” Joanne threw her hands up in the air.

  
“I can’t forget about it! It just seems really weird to me that you seem to want me to be in a gay relationship with my partner and best friend!”

  
Joanne sat down on the window seat. “Dave, it isn’t that at all. I know that being gay means a difficult life, and I certainly don’t want that for you. But I have seen you in relationship after relationship where you’ve gotten hurt, and I know that the same has happened to Hutch. You don’t know what it’s like watching the two of you together…there’s just so much—chemistry between you! I honestly thought that you had something going on, and once I accepted that, I realized…or I thought I did…that you were very happy together. And that made me happy. You have to admit, you haven’t dated anyone in a long while.”

  
“That’s because I’ve been recuperating!” Starsky said defensively, prowling the room like a restless panther. “God, Ma! Do Hutch and me look like a coupla faggots to you?”

  
“Oh, David! You’re smarter than to use such stereotypes. Listen, Hutch has been taking care of you—you’ve been inseparable! You told me yourself you didn’t think you’d be alive if it weren’t for him. You’ve even told me you love him—what was I supposed to think?”

  
Starsky stopped in front of his mother. “Hutch means a lot to me, Ma, probably more than I can explain. But I’m not gay. I’ll start dating again when I’m ready. I’m happy, so please don’t worry.” With a frustrated sigh, he turned abruptly toward the hall. “I’m going up to take another shower. I’m feeling all stiff and sore.”  
***  
Hutch took his time with the horses. He was upset, and he wanted to work off his feelings of anger and frustration before returning to the house. Starsky’s attitude toward the idea of the two of them in a romantic relationship upset Hutch more than he would ever have thought. Sure, he knew what a man’s man his partner was, although he had to give a humorless chuckle to that term, considering the situation. But Hutch couldn’t help but be a little wounded by the vehement way in which Starsky protested to the idea of the two of them being sexually intimate. They really had every other aspect of a marriage going on—love, devotion, fidelity, honesty, affection, trust. Hutch had to admit that, for him, there was also attraction. Would adding sex to the mix really be that awful? He had the feeling lately that being with Starsky that way would be something wonderful. Now he knew his partner found the thought disgusting, and that hurt more than he could say.

  
With a sigh, Hutch got up from the bale of hay on which he’d been sitting and dusted off the seat of his pants. He told himself that he’d been hiding out in the barn long enough. The storm was picking up outside; he could hear the wind howling through the eaves above. It was time he got back to the house. As he pushed open one of the two big doors, the horses protested with loud snorts to the sudden whoosh of cold air that assaulted them from outside. Hutch stepped out from the warm security of the barn into the swirling cold whiteness, and a large gust of wind wrenched the wood from his hand, throwing the aperture wide open. Steeling himself against the onslaught of snow that pelted his face and caught in his eyelashes, he grabbed hold of it and pushed hard, using his entire body to force it closed. A sudden change in wind direction took possession of the door again and hurled it shut, slamming Hutch against it with great force. A jarring thunk that seemed to reverberate in Hutch’s head was the last thing that he heard before darkness took over.

  
***  
“David!”

  
Starsky was dreaming: he was a kid again, and his mom was calling to him from the front of the house. He didn’t want to answer; he wanted to keep playing with his toy cars.

  
“David!” His eyes fluttered open, taking in the blue curtains on the window and the tasteful painting on the wall. He was in the guest room at the Hutchinson’s house in Minnesota.

  
He rolled over on the bed, dampness around his middle reminding him that he still had the towel on he’d worn out of the bathroom.

  
“Must’ve fallen asleep,” he muttered, pushing himself to a sitting position. Looking out the small window beside the bed, he saw that it was already darkening outside, but still snowing wildly. The clock on the night table said 4:17.

“David!” Joanne Starsky’s voice reached him again before she appeared in the doorway.

  
“Hey, Ma,” he rubbed at his eyes. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

  
“That’s okay, dear, but I wondered…where’s Hutch? Did he go to the hospital?”

  
Starsky sat blinking. Where was Hutch? He ran his hands over his face, trying to wake up. “Uh…no. No, I don’t think so. He…” he thought back to their argument in the hallway after the neighbors brought lunch. “He—he went to the barn to feed the horses. He’s not back yet?”

  
Joanne looked confused. “What? When was that?”

  
Starsky stood abruptly, almost losing his towel, and began to look around for his clothes. “Uh—it was right after he talked to you.”

  
“Are you saying he’s been gone to the barn all this time? I haven’t seen him since he spoke to me in the kitchen.” Joanne walked to the window and looked outside at the still-falling snow.  
Starsky pulled jeans out of his suitcase and, while his mom had her back turned to him, dropped his towel and slipped them on. He rummaged for a T-shirt, pulled it on, and then yanked a long-sleeved shirt over it. Grabbing a pair of woolen socks, he sat on the bed and hurriedly drew them over his feet. His heart was beating fast. He couldn’t believe that Hutch had gone out to that barn at least two hours ago, and he had forgotten all about it!

  
As her son shot out of the room and down the stairs, Joanne followed him. “I’m going with you, David.”

  
Starsky didn’t argue; he didn’t have time. Racing into the mud room, he grabbed his heavy coat from off the hook and put it on with shaking hands.  
“What do you think’s happened?” Joanne asked as she pulled on her own coat and gloves. Starsky was already back in the kitchen yanking open drawers.

  
“I know I saw a flashlight in here somewhere,” he muttered. “Ah, here!” he pulled it out and tested it. “I’m hoping he just got stuck in the barn because of the snow,” he answered, afraid to voice his biggest fear—that his partner was hurt and buried in the snow somewhere between the barn and the house. Again, he cursed himself for having forgotten that Hutch was out there in the first place.

  
Joanne handed her son a pair of gloves and they headed outside, where the biting cold momentarily took their breath away. With the sinking of the sun and temperature drop, the falling snow had turned icy, and it stung as it pelted their faces. Joanne had pulled her hood up and tied it at the neck. Starsky yanked his hat farther down so that it covered his ears. Together, they picked their way across the driveway toward the barn.

  
“Keep your eyes open,” Starsky directed loudly so as to be heard above the wind. He flashed the beam of light over the snow, although it was still barely light enough to see. Please, Hutch. Please be in the barn.

  
Several inches had fallen since the morning, and Starsky was having a little trouble maneuvering through it. He kept telling himself that Hutch grew up there and was used to this kind of weather. If he knew that it was going to be dangerous to try to get back to the house, he would just stay in the barn. He probably thought Starsky would look for him before now, he thought with a pang of guilt. Knowing Hutch, that certainty would make the protective blond start for home anyway, in order to keep Starsky from venturing out to look for him. Starsky clenched his gloved fist at his side, regretting the harsh words he’d exchanged with Hutch during their last conversation. Didn’t they know by now not to leave things that way between them? The very nature of their profession had taught them to clear up misunderstandings as soon as possible. You never knew if you’d have another chance.

  
This train of thought quickened Starsky’s steps, although now he was stumbling through wind-blown drifts.

  
“Fucking snow!” he growled. His mother was close behind him, keeping up better than he’d thought she could. He was glad of that, for having to slow down for his mother would be torturous; he wanted to get to his partner. The barn was in sight now, and Starsky hadn’t seen anything that looked like it could be a man buried in snow. They’d left the house from the mud room, where Hutch had said he’d come in when finished in the barn. If they didn’t find him between the two buildings, then he had to be inside the barn. Starsky’s heart lightened a bit.

  
As they approached the red building, Starsky caught sight of something by the door. It was so dark now, he couldn’t make it out. Flashing the beam that way, he tried to see through the falling flakes. He picked up speed, stepping high through the drifts.

  
Starsky’s heart caught in his throat--Hutch was lying on his back, a scarlet trail of blood near his head, his face as white as the snow beneath him. “Oh, my God, Hutch!” Starsky slid to a halt near the door, his mother stumbling to the other side. He handed his mother the flashlight and bent over him.

  
“Look, David,” Joanne shone the light on a piece of metal. It was the horseshoe that hung above the barn door--Starsky had noticed it the day before when the cab dropped them off. He looked up, and his mother cast the light up there. The hinges from which it had swung were empty.

  
A frigid gust of snow blew over them, and Starsky shivered. “Hutch,” he put his gloved hands on each side of the blond man’s face. “Buddy, can you hear me?” Bending low, he put his face near Hutch’s. “Ma….Ma, I don’t think he’s breathing!” Starsky looked up at Joanne with panic in his eyes. He bent down again, putting his ear right by Hutch’s mouth. This time he did feel a breath against his face. Biting his glove off with his teeth, he unzipped Hutch’s heavy jacket and slid his hand inside his collar, feeling for a pulse. “He’s alive,” Starsky let out a whoosh of air and had to stop himself from toppling into the snow under the intense weight of his relief.

  
“Should we drag him into the barn, or try to get him back to the house?” Joanne asked.

Starsky had rezipped Hutch’s jacket and was brushing snow off his inert form.

  
“I’d like to get him to the house. Can you get the barn open, Mom? See if there’s something in there we can drag him on. I’m not sure if I can carry him that far in this snow.”  
Joanne saw that the bolt hadn’t been slid into place, and the barn door was slightly ajar. She pulled on it and slipped inside.

“David, they have sleds in here,” she called after a moment.

  
“I’ll be right back, buddy,” Starsky said, and slid inside the aperture. He saw that Hutch had evidently fed and watered the horses and been on his way out when the horseshoe hit him. That was good; it meant less time lying out in the snow.

He went to the corner where his mother was standing and helped her lift a sled out from behind some snow saucers. Together, they carried it outside, along with a horse blanket and some rope Starsky found hanging on the wall. Starsky shut and bolted the barn door, and then he and Joanne lifted Hutch onto the sled. Covering him with the blanket, Starsky wrapped the rope snugly around Hutch and the sled, tying it securely. Joanne retrieved the flashlight out of her coat pocket and led the way back to the house, as her son slowly pulled the sled carrying his partner behind him.

  
It took twice as long to get back to the house as it had for them to reach the barn, and by the time he drew the sled up to the door, Starsky was breathing hard from his exertions. His lung capacity wasn’t one hundred percent since the shooting, and he’d had to pause several times along the way to catch his breath. Joanne found something to prop the door open as Starsky got the ropes off Hutch and, with a large grunt of effort, lifted him in a fireman’s carry.

  
Once inside, Starsky stood still while his mother pulled the boots off Hutch’s feet. He figured he might as well get Hutch in a bed while he had him over his shoulders, so he passed through the kitchen into the hall and laboriously climbed the stairs one at a time. Joanne scurried past him as he took his partner into the bedroom where they had slept the previous night. As gently as possible, he lowered him onto the bed where his mother had thoughtfully spread out a towel, and started removing his wet clothing piece by piece, starting with his gloves, scarf, and coat. Joanne scurried into Hutch’s bedroom and found him some warm pajamas and socks. When she returned to the guest room, her son had his partner naked and was briskly toweling him off, trying to get his circulation going.

  
“I’m worried…he’s not regained consciousness,” Starsky said, running the towel down Hutch’s left leg. He gently rolled Hutch onto his side and dried off his back.

  
“There you go, buddy,” he crooned, settling him on his back again. He reached for the clothes his mother had brought in and deftly began dressing his partner.

  
“You’re pretty good at that,” Joanne said, trying not to invade Hutch’s privacy by directly looking at him until Starsky got his underwear on.

  
“Lots of practice,” Starsky grunted, pulling Hutch’s pajama pants up around his waist. “Can’t count the times me and Hutch have had to dress and undress each other.” Joanne moved closer to help him with the shirt. Once they had Hutch settled up on the pillows and lying on his left side, Joanne put wool socks on his feet and covered him up with the top sheet and down comforter. Starsky climbed up onto the bed, settling in beside him.

  
“Hutch, buddy, wake up,” he said, patting his face. “Let me see those baby blues.” He turned worried eyes to his mother. “When I toweled off his hair, I saw a cut on the back of his head where the horseshoe must’ve hit him. The snow stopped the bleeding. But I know the longer you’re unconscious, the worse it is.”

  
“Just stay positive, David,” Joanne told him. “I’ll go call an ambulance, although I doubt they can get out here in this. Maybe they can tell me what to do for him.” She left the room.

  
“Hey, Hutch,” Starsky patted the still face again. A little color had returned to his cheeks, but he still looked deathly pale. Starsky slid his hands beneath the covers and began rubbing Hutch’s hands vigorously. Fortunately, Hutch had been dressed for the weather with leather gloves, a scarf, heavy coat, and weather-proof boots. He hadn’t had a hat on, though, and when Starsky had examined the cut, there had been a nasty lump to go with it. He hesitated to put ice on it, since he wanted to raise Hutch’s body temperature.

  
Joanne reappeared, watching her son for a brief moment as he lay with his back to the doorway, his face centimeters from his unconscious partner’s. She shook her head, thinking that her son was fooling himself by claiming he wasn’t in love with this man. She could see it every time she looked at them together. She just wondered if he would ever admit it to himself. She’d felt certain after speaking with Hutch that he, a least, had come to terms with his own feelings for her son.

  
“The ambulance can’t get here. The nurse I spoke to suggested we try this, and if he doesn’t come to, to call her back.” She walked over with a rag. “I soaked it in ammonia,” she said, handing it to her son. Starsky got up on his elbow and placed the rag under Hutch’s nose.

  
“Come on, pal. Wake up. Please,” he pleaded.

  
Hutch’s nose twitched.

  
“That’s it, buddy. Wake up. Come on, Baby Blue.”

  
Hutch’s eyes began moving beneath the lids, and his mouth parted. Starsky waved the rag under his nose again. “Hutch, please wake up,” he crooned gently.

  
It was obvious to Joanne that Hutch was making a real effort for his partner. Starsky put the rag aside and rubbed Hutch’s cheek gently with the backs of his fingers, and Hutch’s eyes fluttered open. They looked startlingly blue next to the white pillow case.

  
“There you go!” Starsky’s smile was huge. “Hey, Buddy Boy! We were worried about you.”

  
Hutch blinked a few times, focusing on Starsky’s face. When he recognized him, he relaxed all over. “W-what?” he said in a hoarse voice.

  
“We found you out in the snow. By the barn. The horseshoe that was hanging over the door had fallen and evidently knocked you out. I don’t know how long you’d been lying there. Hutch, I’m so sorry…I’d completely forgotten you’d gone out!”

  
“S---s’okay,” Hutch whispered, his eyes closing again.

  
“No, you don’t!” Starsky objected, patting Hutch’s cheek. “You might have a concussion. Stay with me, Hutch.”

  
Hutch’s eyes fluttered open again and he shuddered.

  
“Your pupils look okay,” Starsky said, gazing into the blue orbs.

  
“I’ll go make some hot cocoa,” Joanne offered, and left the room. Starsky heard the phone ringing and his mother answering it in the kitchen.

  
“Oh my God, Hutch, it scared the shit out of me when I saw you lying in the snow!”

  
Hutch moved his mouth a little and looked at Starsky, who leaned in and kissed him softly on the forehead. “I know you wanna sleep, Buddy, but just stay awake for a little while until I know you’re okay.”

  
Reaching out, he pushed the hair out of Hutch’s eyes with a gentle motion. Hutch coughed, and then winced at the pain brought on by the movement of his head. He shivered all over, and his teeth began to chatter.

  
“Oh man,” Starsky said. “I was hoping you were warming up a little. Here.” He got up off the bed and pulled his boots off, then slipped out of his jeans, which were cold and a little damp from being outside. Then Starsky lifted the covers and moved in next to Hutch, pulling him so that he rested partly on his chest. He drew the sheet and down comforter up around Hutch’s shoulders, then wrapped his own arms around him. “That better?” He could feel intermittent shudders running through his partner’s frame, but Hutch settled into him and sighed contentedly. Starsky took a moment to gently part the slightly bloody blond hair on the back of Hutch’s head and check out the cut there. It didn’t look too bad, he decided, and the swelling was already going down. He held Hutch more tightly to him and stared at the ceiling. When he had first seen Hutch out there in the snow, he had thought he was dead. The stark terror and utter abandonment he’d felt at that moment had been heart-stopping. It seemed that the empty years ahead of him without his partner had all flashed before him, and he’d never felt so alone and so hopeless. Being without Hutch was simply unthinkable to Starsky.

  
Starsky could feel Hutch’s heart beating against his own chest, and he smoothed his hand over his partner’s back. “Still with me?” he asked softly, planting a kiss on top of the blond head.

  
Hutch grunted in reply, gripping Starsky’s shirt in his hand. He was shaking less and less now that he was absorbing Starsky’s body heat. Starsky acknowledged to himself that he was totally content to lie there with Hutch pressed against him. He could happily do it all night long.

  
Joanne returned with a tray that held two steaming mugs of cocoa. She set it on the dresser and she and Starsky helped Hutch into a better position to drink. “I’ll get some more pillows from the other room,” Joanne said, disappearing again. When she came back, she made Hutch a little nest to lean into.

  
“Thanks,” he managed a smile, and Joanne brushed back his hair.

  
“My pleasure,” she said. “Your sister just called. Your dad is doing well. I told her what happened, and she was concerned, but she said that it’s good that you regained consciousness. We just have to keep an eye on you tonight.”

  
Hutch nodded, winced, and then sipped at his cocoa with Starsky’s help.

  
“Do you feel nauseous at all?” Starsky asked.

  
“No,” Hutch said. “I think I’m okay.”

  
“The swelling’s gone down,” Starsky told his mom.

  
“That’s a good sign,” she said. “Hutch, can I make you some soup? Or a sandwich? You need to eat something.”

  
“Soup sounds good,” Hutch said. “Thanks.”

  
“You don’t have to thank me, dear. I’ll go get it. David?”

  
“No, thanks, Ma.” Starsky watched her go.

  
“Your mom’s so nice,” Hutch said softly.

  
“She’s one in a million,” Starsky agreed, setting the cocoa on the table. He gently pulled Hutch back down to lie against him. “I want you to stay warm.”

  
Hutch didn’t argue, for being this close to Starsky was truly heaven to him.

  
Starsky allowed Hutch to doze until Joanne returned with his food, then he gently shook him awake. Helping Hutch to sit up in bed, he positioned the tray over his legs and watched him eat a little bit. Starsky’s mother left them alone again.

  
“I’m sorry I was being such an ass this afternoon,” Starsky said, as he watched Hutch spoon tomato soup into his mouth with a slightly shaky hand.

  
“It was my fault,” Hutch said tiredly. “I should’ve tried harder to convince your mom before.”

  
“When did you really have the time? I shouldn’t have gotten so pissed off. I’m not sure why I did.”

  
Hutch pushed the bowl away, and Starsky took the tray and placed it on the dresser, then climbed back into the bed. He wanted to make sure that Hutch rested and stayed warm.  
Hutch leaned back on the pillows and closed his eyes.

  
“Do you have any signs of a concussion, Hutch? Headache? Dizziness?”

  
“No,” Hutch said softly. “It just hurts where it hit my head.”

  
“I’ll get you some Tylenol.” Climbing out of bed again, Starsky went to his suitcase and took a bottle out of his shaving kit. Shaking a couple of pills into his hand, he returned and handed them to Hutch, along with his cocoa.

  
Hutch obediently swallowed them, chasing them with the drink, and Starsky set the mug on the nightstand and returned to his place next to Hutch. Hutch would’ve stayed on the pillows, but his partner pulled him close again so that his head was once again resting on his chest. After a moment, Hutch said, “What I can’t figure out, Starsk, is why it bothers you so much to have the family thinking we’re intimate, even though they were fine with it. I mean, you don’t hesitate to let them see us like this.” He indicated their position in the bed.

  
Starsky didn’t reply, and Hutch continued, “To be honest, what bothers me most is that you seem so turned off at the thought of touching me like that.”

  
Starsky’s fingers, which had been tracing circles on Hutch’s back, stopped moving, as he shifted to look down at his partner’s face.

  
“I told you before, it doesn’t turn me off thinking about touching you that way,” he said. “It’s more the idea of being a faggot that gives me the willies.”

  
Hutch shrugged. “I don’t see why loving each other would make us faggots.”  
Starsky stared into Hutch’s eyes for long minutes, a new thought occurring to him. “Hutch… are you saying that you want us to have that kind of relationship?”

  
Hutch moved his head back to lie on Starsky’s chest. “I’m not saying anything. Just that I was hurt.”

  
Starsky moved his hand so that his fingers carded through Hutch’s hair, away from his cut. He still acutely felt the fear and pain at seeing Hutch lying in the snow, and he knew he needed to be close to his partner right now. The necessity of touch was very strong, and Starsky had never questioned it before. It just was.

  
What would it be like to touch Hutch in a sexual way, he wondered. He knew that he liked the feel of his partner’s soft hair beneath and between his fingers. He enjoyed how his silky skin felt under his hand. He almost longed for the weight of Hutch’s head on his chest and the closeness of his body. What would it be like to kiss his mouth? Kiss his neck? Rub against his body?  
Starsky felt the beginnings of arousal between his legs and sucked in a breath.

  
“What is it?” Hutch asked, alarmed. He raised his head and looked Starsky in the eyes, uncertain what he read there. “Starsk?”

  
Starsky blinked. “Um. Nothing.” He rolled to his side and got up, throwing his next words over his shoulder, since he didn’t want Hutch to see the growing bulge in his underwear. “I gotta use the john. Get some rest.”

  
Hutch lay back down, unsure of what to make of Starsky’s abrupt departure.

  
In the bathroom, behind the closed door, Starsky took his cock out of his underwear and soothed it. Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes, picturing the fantasy girl that he normally conjured up for a quick jack-off. She was big-breasted and slim-hipped, with pale, golden hair on her head and between her legs. She pushed him against a wall and rubbed her naked body all over his, whispering, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” Starsky pulled on his prick, expertly working it into a hard, taut arrow jutting from his groin. His mouth fell open, but then his fantasy changed. The voice no longer belonged to the woman. It was the soft sound of his partner’s voice that begged him to fuck him. Starsky’s breath caught in his throat and his cock surged into an even harder, thicker rod than before. He thrust into his hand as the scene played out behind his eyelids. His tall, muscled partner naked before him, touching him everywhere. Kissing his neck, his lips…offering himself to be entered…  
Starsky’s eyes popped open just as he shot off, his body jerking against the door.

  
Completely spent, he went to the sink to clean up. When he returned to the bedroom, Hutch was asleep. Starsky spent a few minutes standing over him, watching him breathe, his heart beating double-time. Joanne appeared in the doorway.

  
“How is he?”

  
“He seems to be okay,” Starsky answered huskily. “I’ll try to wake him in a bit, just to make sure.”

  
“You’ll probably have to do that on and off all night. I can set the alarm and relieve you at some point.”

  
“That’s okay, Mom. I doubt I’m gonna be able to sleep anyway.”

  
Joanne moved forward, putting a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Are you that worried about him, David?”

  
Starsky looked at her, confusion in his eyes. “I just feel all mixed up, Ma,” he stated quietly.

  
“All I can say, honey, is just don’t make things more difficult than they have to be. Go with your heart.” She patted his shoulder and left the room.

  
Starsky climbed back up on the bed and got the book out that he’d been reading earlier. It was only seven o’clock, but as dark as it was outside, it might as well be the middle of the night. Hutch looked comfortable lying on his side facing him. All kinds of emotions fluttered through Starsky as he watched him, the primary one being a deep love. It warmed him inside, as it always had, but now it scared him, too.

  
With a sigh, he turned to the short book and began reading where he’d left off earlier. About mid-way through, he stopped, took Hutch by the shoulder, and gently shook him.

  
“Hey…Hutch? Wake up for me, pal.”

  
Hutch’s eyes slowly opened. Starsky waited for them to focus. “You know where you are?” he asked his partner.

  
“Home...” Clearing his throat, he clarified, “Minnesota.”

  
“Right. You remember what happened?”

  
“Horseshoe. Head,” Hutch answered sleepily.

  
“Good. Okay, sorry, you can go back to sleep.” Content that his partner was all right, Starsky went back to his reading. A few pages later, he realized that a pair of piercing blue eyes were regarding him. He turned. “Can’t go back to sleep?” he asked softly.

  
Hutch blinked heavily. “Read to me.”

  
So Starsky picked up where he’d left off, reading aloud. He was aware of his mother peeking in a couple of times during the next hour or so before heading to her bedroom. Hutch kept his eyes closed, but Starsky could tell he was still listening, so he kept going. Occasionally Hutch would recite a phrase with Starsky, such as “…and decrease the surplus population!” or “Come in and know me better, man!” and Starsky would laugh.

  
When he’d read the final paragraph of the book, he decided to have some fun with his partner. “Well, that’s just disgusting!” he exclaimed, snapping the book shut.

  
Hutch opened one eye. “What is?”

  
Starsky fixed an expression of repulsion on his face and turned it to Hutch. “That last bit about ghosts…whoever heard of having intercourse with a ghost?”

  
Both of Hutch’s eyes were open now. “Starsky…”

  
“No, I’m serious, Hutch. Those people back in Dickens’ time were perverts! Of all things-- screwin’ a ghost!”

  
Hutch rose up on an elbow, ready to sermonize, a sure sign he was on his way to being his old self. “Starsky, he wasn’t saying he no longer had sex with spirits, he was saying he no longer talked with them…and speaking of perverted, you—oh.” Seeing the twinkle in his partner’s eyes, he lay back down on the bed. “You got me, pal.”

  
Starsky laughed outright. Setting the book on the nightstand, he slid down into the bed and reached up to turn out the light.

  
Complete darkness enveloped them and they lay listening to their quiet breathing. Starsky turned so that he was on his side, facing his partner. He could feel Hutch’s warm breath hitting his neck, as he was snuggled a little farther down in the bed than Starsky was. He found himself wondering what it would be like to reach out and touch Hutch in that space where his pajama shirt lay open. Just run the pads of his fingers over the smooth skin there. That led to wondering how it would feel to put his lips there, feel the pulse beating under the skin…and maybe put out his tongue for a taste…

  
Squeezing his eyes shut, Starsky forced these thoughts from his mind. Hutch’s breathing was evening out, and Starsky sent up a quick prayer of thanksgiving that his partner was safe there beside him.

  
***  
The following morning the temperature rose and the skies cleared. By lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson were back at home. With careful instructions from Hutch, Starsky and Joanne had gone to the barn to feed and water the horses, Starsky ruminating aloud the whole while about how he would never want to own one of the big animals; he couldn’t even keep a gold fish alive, and they required very little care.

  
Carolyn had checked out her brother when she came in with their parents, and pronounced him to be fine.

  
“No doubt because of your excellent care,” she told David and his mother. “And I thank you for that,” she added.

  
“We were so worried when we discovered he’d been out so long in that weather!” Joanne exclaimed over coffee.

  
Barbara had returned to the kitchen after getting her husband settled upstairs. “I always noticed that horseshoe when it would swing in the wind. I just thought it was secure up there. It’s been through quite a few storms.”

  
“Guess it just weakened,” Starsky said. “Thank God it didn’t do more damage to Hutch’s head!”

  
Everyone sat quietly for a moment, each with their own thoughts of what a horrible tragedy Christmas could have turned out to be had things happened differently.  
Starsky was the first to snap out of it. “Think I’ll go check on him,” he said, jumping up. “He wants out of that bed pretty bad.”

  
“I think he’ll be fine, David,” Carolyn said. “Let the poor boy up. I’m heading for home.”

  
Starsky took the steps two at a time. When he entered the bedroom, he found his disgruntled partner flipping half-heartedly through a gardening magazine.

  
“Well?” he asked. “What’s the verdict? Can I get up now, or did Nurse Ratched say I have to stay in bed all day.”

  
Starsky smiled widely. “Now, Hutch!” he admonished teasingly. “Is that any way to talk about your dear sister?”

  
“My dear sister enjoys torturing me. Always has,” he threw the magazine down and swung his legs off the bed. “Can’t wait to take a shower.”

  
He stood and started for the door. Three steps across the room and his knees gave out. Starsky caught him under the arms before he fell. “Whoa! Looks like you’re gonna need some help.” He held Hutch around the waist and supported him down the hall.

  
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Starsky, I just tripped. I’m fine!”

  
“Won’t hurt for me to help you. Besides, how many times did you help me shower this past year?”

  
Hutch gave in and allowed his partner to maneuver him into the bathroom, out of his clothes, and under the spray of warm water. A moment later, he stepped in behind him.

  
“I need a shower, too, and it’ll save water,” Starsky explained, reaching for the expensive soap the Hutchinsons used.

  
Hutch rolled his eyes. He knew his partner was worried that, in his weakened state, he might fall in the tub. “You are so transparent,” he muttered. Turning his back on Starsky, he concentrated on shampooing his hair, relishing in the feel of the warm, sudsy water sliding down his body. The knock on the head had quelled his surging emotions somewhat, and his mind wasn’t on his budding sexual feelings. Therefore it came as a complete surprise to turn and open his eyes to find his partner staring at him with an unabashedly large erection.  
“Uh, Starsk?”

  
Starsky reached out with a soapy hand and ran it over Hutch’s bare chest, down, down to touch the sensitive area where his right leg met his groin. Hutch sucked in air so fast, he became light-headed and almost toppled forward. Starsky grasped him around the waist, and then their wet, soapy torsos were touching, and Hutch’s rising cock came to full attention.

  
“Starsky, I thought—“

  
“Shuddup, Hutch,” Starsky ordered, sliding his hands around him, over his back and down to grip his buttocks. Now their pricks were pressed together and sensation threatened to overcome Hutch. He simply couldn’t believe that his partner had done such an about face so fast. Nose to nose, Starsky reached behind his partner and grabbed some rose-scented bath oil. Pouring a large amount in his palm, he brought his hand around and between them, settling on his partner’s large, thick, turgid prick.

  
“Ooh!” Hutch closed his eyes as Starsky began to slowly stroke him with his oily hand. “Oooohhh.” His blond head fell back, exposing his long, pale neck. Starsky’s eyes immediately fastened upon it, and he leaned forward, running his tongue and lips down the silky expanse of skin. Hutch’s chin dipped and he met the exploring mouth with his own, reveling in the wet heat of it, his tongue trailing out and snaking around Starsky’s in an erotic dance, their lips meshing in a plush friction that set off sparks in their nether regions. Running his hand down to slicken his fingers on his oily cock, Hutch moved to grasp his partner’s, pulling the velvety skin upward in a tight grip that coaxed a low moan from Starsky’s throat that reverberated in Hutch’s mouth. Starsky’s lips moved onto his partner’s cheek, and then jawline, planting wet kisses back to his ear, causing Hutch’s breath to accelerate noticeably. Together, their hands tormented each other as they pressed their cocks together, letting them slide against one another as they helplessly thrust, their mouths joined. Soon the frottage was not enough. Hutch silently reached down and pushed the lever that changed the water from shower to bath, and then flipped up the handle for the stopper. As the tub began to fill, he turned back to Starsky, took the bottle of oil out of his hands, and began to grease his partner’s cock up even more.

  
At that moment Hutch threw all caution to the wind. To hell with trepidation or responsibility. He didn’t care if he and Starsky had to spend months in therapy to repair the damage; they were going to get it on right then and there in his parents’ giant bathtub, or die trying. “I want you deep inside me,” he told Starsky huskily, his eyes meeting the dark gaze, hazy with desire beneath black lashes as his oily hands worked over him.

  
Slowly, he sank down into the tub, pulling Starsky along with him. His partner seemed to have lost all power of speech. He sat in the tub, mouth open, breath coming in fast bursts. Hutch leaned forward and pushed an errant curl off Starsky’s cheek, then traced the parted lips with his tongue. Going with what his body was telling him, Starsky scooted forward, his legs spreading and moving to fall underneath and on each side of his partner’s. Wrapping his arms around Hutch, he pulled him closer, sliding his ass so that it touched Starsky’s groin. Hutch clung to him and they met in a searing kiss, their fingers entangling in one another’s hair. Starsky reached back and turned the water off, as it now reached the tops of their legs. Their bodies were slick with oil, and Starsky moved his hands all along Hutch’s skin, pausing to tweak his nipples. Hutch shuddered deliciously, and at that moment Starsky wanted him so badly he would’ve done anything to have him. Between kisses, they moaned and cursed. Hutch reached down and took Starsky’s cock in his right hand, letting go of his partner’s waist so he could lean back on his left hand and push himself up enough to press the tip against his anus.

  
“Oh, God, Hutch, it’s gonna hurt you…” Starsky breathed, while at the same time wanting to surge inside that dark, tight, hot hole with all his might.

  
“I don’t care,” Hutch panted.

  
“I care!” Starsky objected, and inserted an oily finger into the orifice instead, moving it around and around, up and down.

  
“UH! Starsky!” Hutch arched his back, closing his eyes in an ecstasy of sensation. Starsky put in another finger and then another, moving all three in unison. When Hutch began to pump against him, he withdrew and replaced the digits with his long, shapely prick, pushing it in slowly while Hutch began a wail of pleasure low in his throat that set Starsky’s balls on fire with desire. Grasping Hutch about the waist, he yanked him closer to him and leaned back so that the blond was seated atop of him, his legs around his middle. Both men paused to look at each other, marveling at the wondrous feel of being joined together.  
After a brief but deep kiss, Hutch planted a palm on each side of the tub and pushed his body up until his feet were planted on each side of Starsky’s ass. When he felt he had a solid grip on the porcelain, he began to lift and then squat-thrust onto the phallus that impaled him, in slow, even strokes.

  
“OH! Oh, hell, Hutch, that’s fucking fantastic! Ahhh… aaaahhhh!”

Starsky thrust his pelvis, going deeper into his partner’s hot canal, dizzy with the sensations. His prick was being squeezed and stroked at the same time by his partner’s beautiful ass, and Starsky was in heaven. His breath caught and he groaned as Hutch changed the tempo, thrusting at him faster. A tingle built in his toes, traveling upward. He opened his eyes long enough to take in the sight of Hutch’s blond head falling forward, his eyes cloudy with intoxication, the rapture of the moment encircling the two of them like a heady cloud as Hutch gasped with each downward thrust. Starsky squeezed his eyes shut a moment, bending his head and reopening them to see the long column of his phallus disappearing inside of Hutch’s ass and then reappearing as the blond pulled back. Over and over again like rapid machine gun fire, until Starsky was shaking from the ravishment, screaming for his release.

  
“Now, Hutch, now! Ohmygod!” Hutch switched positions so that his hands were on Starsky’s shoulders and his feet braced on the back of the tub while Starsky braced his on the other end. Water sloshed as he drove himself onto his partner’s cock, thinking his ass might split in two before he reached orgasm. Then Starsky grabbed hold of his prick and fondled the head and Hutch was off like a rocket, his ass squeezing Starsky so tight that a yell burst from the latter’s lungs that shook the very foundations.

Directly below the guest bathroom was Barbara Hutchinson’s small sewing room, where the lady of the house had escorted Mrs. Bowling and her daughter when they dropped by for news on Jonathan. Joanne was pouring the tea and chatting about the weather.

  
“Would you like some sugar with this?” Joanne offered. She had made cinnamon apple tea from the gift assortment Hutch had given her for Christmas.

  
“No, thank you,” Monika Bowling demurred, taking the cup. “So where are Ken and David?”

  
Hillary’s ears perked up at the mention of Ken Hutchinson’s partner. She had found him to be very sexy and good-looking, and secretly hoped he would ask her on a date.

  
“Oh, I think David is helping Ken take a shower,” Barbara supplied. “I hear the water running. After his mishap yesterday at the barn, Ken is pretty weak.”

  
“The two of them are very close,” Joanne added, and Barbara nodded agreement.

  
 _Oohh! Ooooh!_ Hutch’s voice traveled through the floorboards.

  
All four faces tilted upward to stare at the ceiling, then down again to look at one another.

  
The sound of the water changed from a spraying to a gushing noise. “Do you think he’s all right?” Monika asked, concerned.

  
Barbara frowned. “Maybe he pulled a muscle.”

  
There were squeaking sounds from above, as of skin against porcelain.

  
“Sounds like they switched from shower to tub, so that’s probably what it is. A nice soak does wonders for a pulled muscle,” Joanne smiled, handing Hillary her cup. “You’d be surprised at what they’ve learned to do for each other as partners on the police force.”

  
A loud moan followed by a curse word pierced the quiet room. The four women buried their faces in their tea.

  
“Um, how is your job at the nursing home going?” Barbara asked Hillary.

  
_Oh, Starsky!_

  
“It’s great!” Hillary chirped.

  
_Ohhh…_

  
Joanne recognized her son’s voice, and quickly surmised he was _not_ in pain.

  
“How about some music?” She suggested, and Barbara practically catapulted over the tea table to the radio.

  
_Oh, yes, ohmygod, yes!_

  
Further moans, rhythmic squeaking, and sloshing noises were drowned out as Barbara turned the radio on. A low wailing caused her to flip the volume even higher.

  
_Yes….fucking fantastic…_

  
Monika stood up abruptly.

  
_Yes! Yes!_

  
“I—I just remembered we promised to stop by the store and…and…” she glanced helplessly at her daughter.

  
“And buy some fruitcake!” Hillary supplied, putting her cup down with a shaking hand and getting to her feet.

  
_Oh, my God, Hutch!_

  
“Fruitcake! Yes, fruitcake,” Monika said, grabbing her purse.

Barbara looked at Joanne.

  
“Well, when you need fruitcake…” her voice trailed off as the squeaking of the tub got even louder and then, suddenly, the small chandelier on the ceiling began to rattle as a soul-shattering yell overwhelmed the soft musical aria that had just begun on the radio.

“Er, I hope Kenneth is feeling better,” Hillary offered as they raced through the hall and out the front door.

  
“Oh, I feel confident that he is,” Barbara said, leaning against the door after she’d closed it. Her eyes met Joanne’s and the two women burst into laughter.

  
“I thought you said we were wrong about them!” Barbara said from behind her hand.

  
“I think something’s changed since then,” Joanne gasped, leaning against the banister. Both women glanced upstairs, where things were now silent.

  
“Hope they didn’t drown,” Barbara ventured, and then they were laughing again.  
***  
Later that night, Hutch and Starsky lay in bed wrapped around one another, Starsky’s lips buried in Hutch’s hair.

  
“I’m such a dope,” he lamented.

  
“What’ve I been telling you all these years?” Hutch asked, and Starsky smiled against the top of his head.

  
“I’d pretty much given up on the idea of us getting together,” Hutch admitted, sobering. “So what changed your mind? Me getting conked on the head by a horseshoe?”

  
“Naw, I was figuring it out. You didn’t have to go and do that to get my attention.”

  
Hutch snorted. “Like I did it on purpose.” He reached up and touched Starsky’s face. “But if that’s what had to happen to speed things up, I’m glad it did.”

  
“Bite your tongue! You could’ve been killed!” Starsky admonished. Leaning down, he kissed Hutch tenderly on the mouth. A growl came from his stomach.

  
“We’re going to have to go down and face them sometime,” Hutch said quietly. “You need to be fed.”

  
“Forget it! I’m not listening to Ma tell me ‘I told you so’. Gonna stay up here forever.” His stomach growled again.

  
There was a moment of silence. “Want me to go alone?” Hutch asked. “I can bring something up.”

  
“Aren’t you embarrassed?” Starsky asked. “Man, Hutch, we were loud! And I saw the neighbor’s car driving away!”

  
Hutch laughed. “Ought to spice up the rumor mill around here.” He sat up as Starsky’s stomach made another gastric protest to its empty state. “I’ll go get some supplies.”

  
Starsky sighed and crawled out of bed. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “Me and thee, like always.”

  
Hutch grinned. “I like the sound of that.” He handed Starsky his new robe, donned his own, and they headed for the kitchen hand in hand.

_finis_


End file.
